Three Daughters, Three Beaux, and One Hero
by Almost an Actress
Summary: What if Jean Valjean had rescued not only Cosette that night many a year ago? And what if, years later, the three young ladies he calls daughters are grown? Cosette is trapped in a world of of innocent infatuation, Eponine has caught the eye of both Courfeyrac AND Combeferre, and Azelma's beau is MUCH too old for her. Good Lord... how will Valjean keep boys away from his daughters?
1. a wise father knows his own child

Prologue:

Jean Valjean only meant to leave with one child that day. The child in question was Cosette, the eight-year-old daughter of Fantine, a woman who had worked at his factory. Apparently she had been thrown out by the foreman, and she'd blamed him for this. There had been nothing he could have done, of course, because Inspector Javert had shown up at the worst possible time. He had later found Fantine very much changed, her beautiful hair shorn, her mouth sporting bleeding gaps where teeth had been, and her dignity shattered. She'd been reduced to prostitution to earn money to pay for Cosette. She was willing to give up everything for an illegitimate child she hadn't seen in years. She had died in his arms that night with a delirious smile on her face. Her eyes had shone with fever and her skin had been clammy and sweaty, but she had been smiling. And that was all that mattered.

Their brief exchange still haunted him, her hallucinating Cosette beside her, cooing to the invisible child, and he calming her and assuring he would forever care for Cosette and she would want for nothing. Her last words? "Tell Cosette I love her and I'll see her when I wake."

Those words rattled in his brain as he rode a carriage to the shabby inn where Cosette was being kept. He pulled on the reins of the horse pulling the carriage and jumped from the uncomfortable wooden rider's seat. "There now, Merle," he murmured to the animal, "we'll get you warm yet." He stroked the black steed's nose and looked to the woods, where he swore he heard a small child's whimper. He knew Cosette was the top priority, but if there was a child alone in the woods on this cold night, they could catch their death. He hitched the horse to a tree and entered the woods, listening. There it was again, that little whimper. A pitiful, scared sound.

Suddenly, through a gap in the trees, he saw her – a child with ratty blonde hair in rags. She had no shoes, and her breath was steaming in the freezing air. Her arms had sprouted gooseflesh he could see all the way from where he stood. She was lugging a heavy wooden bucket, and trying her best not to cry. Jean Valjean couldn't believe what he was seeing. He crossed the clearing quietly, a stick snapping under his boot. The child looked up and gasped, catching sight of him. She ran behind a tree, dropping the bucket.

"There now, child," Valjean called gently. "There's no need to be afraid of me."

The little girl peeked out from behind the tree silently, a few tears falling down her cheeks.

"It is cold out. You should be inside. Where are your parents, little one?" Valjean asked.

The little girl finally spoke up, whispering, "Maman is in Paris, earning money so we can be together. M'sieur and Madame Thénardier sent me to fetch some water from the well."

"Little one, what is your name?" Valjean asked, an inkling already spreading in his mind.

"I'm called Cosette," the child mumbled.

Jean Valjean smiled. "Your mother, Fantine, sent me to fetch you." He crossed to her, holding out his arms invitingly. To his surprise, the child trusted him and willingly let him pick her up. She wrapped her arms around his neck. "Your mother is with God now, Cosette. Do you know what that means?"

Cosette gave a tiny, trembling nod. "Maman is dead," she whispered.

Valjean tightened his arms around the young girl. "But I promised her I would take care of you, Cosette. She wanted you to know she loved you. She loved you more than anything in this world." But what price did she pay for it? He set the child down and took her bucket, offering her his arm. The two exited the woods.

When they got to the dilapidated inn, Valjean cringed. There were sloppy drunkards and disgusting prostitutes scattered around the place, the drunkards blacked out and the prostitutes shamelessly flirting with every man that entered. The innkeepers bounced from person to person, snatching objects off of them and refilling mugs of beer. They were clad in ridiculous clothes, cheap yet frivolous.

Jean Valjean steered Cosette over to the two, a frown upon his face. "I found her wandering the woods in this frigid weather. The child doesn't even have shoes."

The woman and man, at the same time, snapped, "It's no concern 'a yers!"

Jean Valjean gritted his teeth. He explained of Fantine's death and how she had entrusted Cosette to him. He elaborated on how he would be happy to pay any price the Thénardiers deemed fair for Cosette, as long as they kept the whole situation quiet. After much haggling where the Thénardiers claimed Cosette was sickly and fragile and how they shared everything with her, upping the price several times, they agreed on fifteen hundred. It was an obscene price, but he agreed to it anyhow. "Come, Cosette. Pack your things," he directed her.

She grabbed a tiny rag doll and smiled up at Valjean. "That's all."

"We'll fix that very soon, little one," he said fondly.

As the two were about to exit, Monsieur Thénardier cried, "Wait!" He roughly shoved two little girls foreword, one who looked about the same age as Cosette – eight – and one who appeared to be five. The eight-year-old had long, groomed brown hair and deep brown eyes. She was beautiful in a childish way… except her large black eye. The younger girl had hair that was a closer to a warm chestnut, and blue eyes. She was pale and sickly looking, with bedraggled ringlets. There were bruises all over her arms, as if someone had aggressively grabbed and yanked her one too many times. "Monsieur, meet Eponine and Azelma Thénardier," the innkeeper all but growled. "Since yer takin' Colette-"

"Cosette!" his wife hissed.

"Since yer takin' Cosette, kind M'sieur, why dontcha take 'em too? They're just underfoot in the inn; we 'ave no use for 'em."

Valjean looked at the two girls. They were both obviously abused, and the younger one looked weak and unhealthy. It seemed like he honestly had no choice in the matter. The other two would make the situation momentously harder, but how could he leave knowing the younger one could die of disease and the older would continue to be abused? He held an arm out to them, and Thénardier shoved them towards him. The older girl – Eponine – came straight to him, not looking back. She looked up into his eyes, mischief shining in her own, even the blackened one.

"Yer my new Papa, eh?" she said in a gravelly voice.

"It would seem so," Valjean murmured.

Eponine came to Cosette and held out a hand. "Since we've both been dumped, no 'ard feelings?"

Cosette smiled shyly and took Eponine's hand. "Forgiven."

Valjean didn't know the history of the girls, but considering the fact that they were dressed much better than Cosette, he had a feeling they were treated better – even if they were beaten. He was surprised that Cosette would forgive that quickly, and this would shock him for years to come.

The youngest child, Azelma, looked confused. She turned to her father. "Papa?" she said quietly, cocking her head. The disheveled chestnut ringlets hung from the side of her head and she sniffled. The picture of the word "pitiful."

Thénardier gave her a menacing glare. "Didn't ya hear me, girl? This man's yer new papa now. Don't ya call me Papa; call him Papa!"

Azelma took a step towards her father. "Papa-" she started.

He shoved her away from him, and the child fell to the floor. She landed hard on her side, and began to whimper and sputter. Her pale face turned red as tears fell down her cheeks. "Papa!" she sobbed, but turned this time toward Jean Valjean. She ran to him and wrapped her little arms around his legs.

Valjean felt his heart soften and picked Azelma and Cosette up in his arms. Eponine gave him a grin and said, "I can take care 'a m'self M'sieur." She stood at his side, though, pressing close next to him. And so they took their leave.

He really only meant to leave with one child that night, but left with three. He never meant to be Papa to anyone, and now three little girls were calling him the name. But Jean Valjean's soul belonged to God, and God took care of little girls.

**Author's Note: I'm really sorry about publishing this new story, but I actually thought of this when I was half-asleep. That's when I have my best ideas, actually. Anyway, this was just the prologue. Romance is about to come! ^^' Please, please, please review!**

**-Novi **


	2. so wise, so young, they say

**Author's Note: Hi, my fellow miserable(s) people! I'm so glad at the reception this humble little Fic revived! ^^ You people are nice and I love you. :D But… for all the people who fave'd and followed without reviewing, please actually leave a review. It's not that hard, **_**mes amis**_**! **

**My Sincerest Regards,**

**-Almost an Actress **

**XXX**

As the odd quartet made their way through the cobbled square, Jean Valjean spotted Cosette looking longingly into the window of a warmly lit little shop. He followed her gaze to a fancy doll and eyed her own doll made of knotted rags. It didn't even have eyes, ne noted. He set Cosette and Azelma on the ground, and then brought Eponine closer. He set the little girls down and gave them a smile. He then turned to Eponine and Azelma. "You three deserve a little gift, don't you think?" he asked.

Cosette gave a shy smile and a mute nod. Eponine considered for a moment, and then whispered something to Azelma. Azelma nodded vigorously, and Eponine took her hand. "Me and 'Zelma approve, in case you were wonderin'," she said.

Valjean smiled again and herded his small posse into the shop. "Pick one thing," he directed the girls. Azelma and Eponine wandered off, and Cosette tugged at his overcoat. "Yes, Cosette?"

She bit her lip nervously. "Monsieur, do you think…?" She trailed off, gave the doll one last longing look, and then shifted her gaze to the ground. "N-never mind, m'sieur. It's much too expensive."

Jean Valjean reached up in the window and plucked the doll down. "If what you want is too expensive, child, then what about this little doll?" he asked with a wink. He knew the doll was exactly what the girl wanted, but wasn't about to let her know that. "She's a beauty, isn't she? Her face is white as snow, and her dress is blue as the sky!"

Cosette's face lit up as she beamed. "Monsieur, how did you know?" she breathed. "The doll was what I wanted all along!" She took the doll and cradled her carefully in her arms. "Her name is _Espoir_," she whispered.

"Hope?" Valjean echoed. "What an odd name for a doll, _petite alouette_."

"Why?" Cosette asked. "Every day I would look at her and hope, hope,_ hope_ I would have her. So hope fits her, you see."

Valjean was dumbstruck by the innocent wisdom of this child. He stroked her tangled blonde hair. "Hope fits her," he repeated, but wasn't talking about the doll.

Their lovely moment was interrupted by the return of Azelma, as the pale child tottered over with a baby doll in her arms. It had a porcelain face and was wearing a little pink nightdress coupled with a similar-hued bonnet. "Monsieur?" Azelma questioned.

Valjean nodded and ruffled her ringlets. "Yes, little one. Of course. What a wonderful doll. What shall you name her?"

Azelma looked thoughtful as she cradled the doll. "_Minou_," she decided. She gave no reason for calling the doll "Kitty," but Valjean had a feeling the child barely talked, and was going to keep it that way for a long while. He left the two little girls to their own devices for a few moments and went looking for Eponine. After searching the shop for a few minutes, he found the girl holding a large, rusted knife in her hands, turning it over and over and inspecting it with the utmost scrutiny.

"Put that down!" Valjean cried, snatching the knife in one fell swoop. "Don't you know not to touch knives, Eponine?" he chastised.

Eponine frowned and crossed her arms. "M'sieur," she said in a tone that was half-forced patience and half-irritation. "Papa had knifes like that stored all over the inn. 'E would do a bit of slashin' – just a bit – if 'e didn't like how 'Zelma and I behaved. 'E never cut us, but 'e almost got me a few times. I _know_ knifes, m'sieur."

Valjean shook his head with disbelief. He could hardly fathom how one man could treat his children as if they were obnoxious pets, to be abused most times and oddly coddled whenever the owner felt the whim strike him. "No knives, 'Ponine," he said sternly, trying out the nickname he'd heard her father use. He wasn't sure if the battered child would approve, but he wanted to get closer to her.

Eponine gave an exasperated sigh. "Monsieur, I'm tryin' to be respectful," she said. "But I'd really like that knife. I know 'Zelma and 'Setta wanted dolls, and that's fine and well, but I can protect myself with a knife." A dark look settled in her eyes. "The streets 'r dangerous. I know this better 'n anyone."

Valjean felt something in him soften. This girl, this _child_, at eight years old, bore the weight of the world on her skinny shoulders. She put on the cocky façade to hide the hurt inside her, and she had cracked her marble, so to speak, just for him. She wanted the knife because she was scared. She was scared that even though she was being rescued, it was too good to be true. For Eponine, any good thing was too good to be true. Valjean knelt down and put his hands on her shoulders, looking her in the eyes, flinching slightly at the giant purple ring around one of them. "Eponine Thénardier, your life was cold and dark, but it will be warm and bright now. Do you trust me, child?"

Eponine considered for a few moments and gave an almost unnoticeable nod. Just a tiny lowering of her chin. And then her façade slipped back up, and she gave a confident grin. "I don't need anyone but m'self… _Papa_," she said, and plucked the knife out his hands, sauntering away.

Valjean smiled.

XXX

The makeshift family made their way to Valjean's carriage, all three girls delighting at his horse, a black mare named Merle. He lifted Azelma so she could stroke the animal's nose, and she squealed in delight as Merle's breath – steaming in the cold night air – huffed in her face. He gently set Azelma on Merle's back, and she knotted her tiny hands in the horse's mane and giggled, hugging its neck. Cosette shyly patted the beast's leg and Eponine crossed her arms, aloof, allowing a tiny smile and Merle nose-butted her gently. He let the three have their way with the horse for a few minutes, and then opened the door to the carriage. "Alright _vous trios_," he said, bemused, "into the carriage with you."

He picked up Azelma and deposited her inside the carriage, helping Cosette and Eponine inside. Azelma immediately wormed her way in between Cosette and Eponine, curling up with her oddly-named _Minou_ and leaning against Cosette. Eponine laid her head on Cosette's shoulder and wrapped her arms around Azelma. Cosette rested her head on Eponine's own and wrapping one arm around Azelma and the other around her doll named _Espoir_. Eponine dropped her rusty knife – which had been wrapped in the rags from Cosette's old doll to keep away a rust-induced infection – on the floor of the carriage with a small thud. All three girls were almost immediately asleep.

Valjean stared on fondly. The speed and efficiency at which the three girls had curled up amused him and warmed his heart. He wrapped his coat tighter around himself and mounted the uncomfortable wooden rider's seat. The discomfort seemed trifling now. He snapped the reins, calling, "Yah, Merle!" The mare began to trot out of the town, and into the night.

Little did Valjean know, from this moment on, his life would never be the same.


	3. the primrose path

**Bonjour, my fellow miserable people! *Grins blithely* Thank you all so much for reviewing this chapter so quickly! I really just hammered it out, but my parents liked it, so it must've been pretty good! ;) 17 follows?! ****Thank you so much!  
**

**Turner Child: ****Thank you so much, and I WILL update as often as I can!**

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**HearThemSing: ****Aw, thank you so much, darlin'! You seem like a super nice person, and I'm glad you love it.**

**Weeping-willows18: ****Hey – I'm so glad that you like this story! ^^ The part about the knife was a bit risky, because I was trying to be realistic. **

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**Randomcat100: ****Why thank you! I know; I love Azelma. She doesn't really have a huge part in this chapter, but in the upcoming chapters she does!**

**My Sincerest Regards,**

**-Almost an Actress (Novi)**

**XXX**

_Ten years later…_

Cosette opened her eyes and rubbed at them sleepily, letting out a loud yawn. She gathered her blonde hair loosely and tied it with a pink ribbon. Ribbons – though Papa found them frivolous – were her one weakness. Along with sugary desserts, handsome young lads, a good romance novel, warm gloves, pretty dresses, – Well… maybe she had more weaknesses than most thought.

Still clad in her nightgown, the eighteen-year-old girl rose from her warm bed, looking around the darkened room and wondering what had woken her at such an odd time of night. The heat of the summer midnight was almost too much to bear in her rather thick nightgown. Looking over, she saw 'Ponine and 'Zelma in their beds, and gave a fond smile. She loved her sisters, she really did. Though they weren't her sisters by blood, they may as well have been. 'Zelma, at fifteen, was a beautiful young thing. She had a head full of luscious chestnut ringlets and the loveliest brown eyes, and Cosette often noticed youthful dandies staring after the girl. She was currently sprawled on her bed, tangled in the sheets and drooling. Cosette gave a soft giggle. _If those young men could see her now_, she thought with a shake of her head. Her other "sister" – Eponine – was sleeping peacefully with a smile on her face. Whatever dreams were gracing the olive-skinned eighteen-year-old must have been pleasant, Cosette guessed. Her umber hair was fanned about her head on the pillow like an angel's halo.

Cosette yawned again and stepped out of the room and into the moonlit garden. It was shadowy and dark in some places, but for the most part it was relatively well-lit. She settled down on a marble bench and looked up at the starry sky. Still perplexed about what had awakened her, she felt her head becoming somewhat heavier, and began to nod off. Suddenly, feeling a soft hand on her shoulder, she jerked and let loose an exclamation of "Nyuh?!"

It was Eponine.

Eponine grinned wolfishly down at her honorary sister and, in one fluid motion, removed the pink ribbon from Cosette's hair. She was always doing things like this, sneaking up on innocent Cosette and scaring her, then bothering her just for the fun of it…. The light flaxen hair spilled down around her shoulders. "Little Lark, what are you doing out here in your nightgown?" Eponine chastised. "Bad things can happen to gentle birds in the nighttime." She raised a dark eyebrow at Cosette. "_Especially_ when they're in their nightgowns." Though she had lost her improper speech and urchin accent long ago, Eponine still carried all of her wry wisdom with her, and was quick to remind her more naive sister of the dangers of the world.

Cosette gave a patient smile. "_Mon sœur sage_," she said fondly, "wisdom beyond your years makes you dark." She snatched her ribbon from Eponine's hands and drew the girl down on the bench beside her, patiently – ever patiently; it infuriated and endeared Eponine at the same time – retying the pink ribbon in her hair. She paused for a moment, playing with her thin fingers and looking down. "Eponine, may I tell you something? A secret?"

Eponine quirked an eyebrow. "Well, well, 'Setta. Who's the lucky boy?" At the _very _guilty look from Cosette, Eponine's eyes widened. "_Mon Dieu_, 'Setta! You're not… pregnant?!"

Cosette gave a rushed laugh. "No, 'Ponine, no! I promise you. But today… the most amazing thing happened to me. I do believe I've met the love of my life." A dreamy look crossed her face. "Papa and I were out when I saw him…"

_Jean Valjean and Cosette were out giving small amounts of money to the poor. They walked around the square, spying the destitute and slipping them a franc or two for their troubles. Each urchin thanked the two, one even going so far as to call Valjean and Cosette: "The saint and his angel!" Cosette had smiled at that comment. There was a silence for a few moments then as Cosette chanced a look to her left. _

_ And she saw stopped her world._

_ There was a boy across the square, staring at her. His eyes were bright and kind, his face somewhat footesque, but that fact was ignorable. Something in the goofy-looking character staggered Cosette. She didn't know what it was. Maybe his eyes, the way they were giddy and dancing with kindness. Maybe it was the tiny, shy smile that he offered. Who knew? _

So this is what love at first sight feels like_, Cosette thought dizzily. A few people crossed between her and the boy, and then they caught sight of each other again. She flicked her glance away and touched Papa's arm, murmuring, "I'll be back, Papa. I see a man across the square that looks like he could use some help." She vaguely pointed in the direction of an urchin they had already given food to and crossed the square to the boy. She didn't know his name, his story, or even if he was her own age, but somehow she just needed to talk to him. He was standing stock-still, his eyes frozen over with surprise and a rather foolish grin upon his face. She stepped in front of him and smiled shyly. "Monsieur?" she questioned. _

_ The frozen eyes vanished but the foolish grin remained. "_B-b-bonjour_, mademoiselle," he stammered. "I saw you from across the square."_

_ "As did I," Cosette said. They stood in silence for a few moments, both unsure what to say. They stared into each other's eyes, getting closer and closer until-_

_ "Cosette!" Valjean snapped from across the square. "Come away; it's time to go!"_

_ Cosette gave the boy one last glance and touched his cheek before scurrying off to Papa. She wasn't sure why, but she didn't want Papa to know about her "love at first sight" with this goofy grinner. _

XXX

"You don't know the boy's name?" Eponine questioned when Cosette's story was over. "You do not know his age? Where he lives?"

Cosette's cheeks pinkened and she picked at a seam on her nightgown, only now remembering how oppressively hot it was. "I'll admit that I don't," she mumbled.

Eponine barked out a laugh. "Oh, _petite alouette_!" she crowed. "So innocent and sweet." She used the words to put an end to the silly conversation. She shook her head. "Let's get ourselves to bed, 'Setta. We'll talk in the morning."

"Wait, 'Ponine!" Cosette protested. "Please wait. I have a favor to ask of you."

Eponine raised an eyebrow. "What is it, my little lark?" She knew it had something to do with the boy. It just had to.

"My… my boy," Cosette stammered. "I need to find him. To know his name, at least. 'Ponine, you know your way around. Please, find him for me?"

The innocent hope in Cosette's face was what cracked Eponine. Well, that and the fact that she was frankly tired of being outside in the sweltering midnight. She was weary and would've liked to go to bed. "Sure, 'Setta. I'll find the boy of your dreams, _mon soeur_. I know my way about this town." She gave a tired smile. "Let's get ourselves to bed now, _non_?" She took her sister's hand and they went back inside, curling up together on Eponine's bed and falling into dreams.

XXX

It was three days on when Eponine found the boy who had charmed Cosette. He had been hanging about the Café Musain with a group of revolutionary republicans who called themselves _Les Amis de L'ABC_. The horrible pun had caused Eponine to let out a peal of semi-sarcastic laughter when she'd heard it the first time. Apparently the boy who Cosette claimed to be the "love of my life!" was a one Marius Pontmercy, and not actually part of the group. His best friend – a charming dandy named Courfeyrac – was in the group and Marius attended meetings sometimes.

When Cosette found all this out, she squealed. "Oh, 'Ponine!" she shrieked, hugging her sister with rib-cracking force. "I'll never be able to thank you enough!" She grabbed Eponine's hands and twirled the girl around, all but _singing _out: "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Just as quick as the frenzy started, it abruptly ended and a pensive look crossed Cosette's face. "Well, 'Ponine, we must go to one of these meetings."

Eponine shook her head. "_Mon petite alouette_," she sighed, "I must cross the line there. They're revolutionaries; I don't even belive in their ideals." She gave Cosette a look. "Do you even know what those ideals _are_?"

Cosette smiled and began to speak, but stopped, her smile faltering. "I… I suppose not," she mumbled.

Eponine rubbed at her temples. "They don't approve of the king. They think he's unfair, taxing us the way he does." She gave a thoughtful pause. "After all, the rich are the fortunate and the poor man pays twice, as the old saying goes. Think about it, 'Setta," she said, "look at all of the poor and starving. I've seen women who can't even nurse their babies because they have nothing to give." She shook her head ruefully. "You see tiny bundles in the grave digger's cart at the end of the day, every day. Those contain _children_. I've seen children lying in the gutters, and the bourgeoisie – what do they do? They step around them as if they are in a simple inconvenience." She began to get somewhat fired up. "It's saddening and ridiculous!"

Cosette nodded.

"The poor man pays twice, I just said. It's true, 'Setta; you don't know how true it is! We struggle and_ claw_ for a simple bite of _food_, and if we so much as ask a rich _fool_ for their food, we're jailed!" She went on and on, getting increasingly impassioned. She talked a bit more about the dead children she saw, and how the sight disturbed her. She talked about girls as young as thirteen or fourteen becoming prostitutes just so they could find money to feed their younger siblings. She talked about the vial men who would even consider taking such… actions … with a girl so young. She all but screamed about the men and women who worked and worked and still didn't have enough money to pay and got kicked out on the street. She must have gone on for at least ten straight minutes. In the end, the usually dark-completed girl was red-faced and seething, steam practically rising from her. She took a deep breath through her nose and smiled at the shell-shocked Cosette. "I'm sorry, 'Setta. I am honestly not sure where that came from." She gave a lopsided smile. "I've had these ideals for a long time, but never voiced them. I wasn't sure how." She shrugged.

Cosette, finally recovering from the shock, shook her head softly and smirked. "My 'Ponine, I do believe _you_ believe in their cause," she said with raised eyebrows.

Eponine paused for a long moment and frowned. "I don't," she snapped. "They're bound to fail, 'Setta. They'll rise up and be crushed, all of them dead for nothing. No one will remember them," she said darkly.

Cosette grinned slyly. "You just told me you had your ideals and had never voiced them, 'Ponine. Face it, _mon soeur sombre_, you don't want to admit that you believe in their cause."

Eponine frowned again. "I will go to one meeting with you, and no more."

Cosette – for the second time that day – squealed like a child and hugged her sister so hard Eponine swore her ribs were shattering.

Little did she know, as soon as she saw one of the boys at the meeting, she would go to many more than just one.

**Second Author's Note: Well, how did you like it folks? Please review when you're done reading such! There's a lot of sister/friendship fluff in this chapter. Yay! Shipping will come soon, I promise. Sorry there wasn't much of Azelma, but we only needed 'Ponine and Cosette for the aforementioned fluff, **_**non**_**? Also, sorry I described Marius's face as "footesque." Just a bit of humor! :D  
**


	4. a lady's verily is as potent as a lord's

**Happy Barricade**** Day, mes amis! ****This is my first barricade day as a Mizzie! ^^ I'm so excited, so here's my Barricade Day update. Today is the day Eponine, Bahorel, and… someone else, I think…die. Excuse me while I die inside. *hugs Bahorel* Devious Azelma is devious. **

**Randomcat100: I'm so glad you liked the chapter! I'm also glad I'm subconsciously including three of your five favorites. I don't think Javert will show up in this story too much, if at all, but Gavroche will make an appearance or two – just for you, **_**mon ami**_**! **

**ConcreteAngelRoxHerHalo: I'm glad you think it's realistic. And I know what you mean! Thankfully the email updates started working again, but for about two days, I wasn't getting ANY FanFiction updates and it was making my soul die! ): Glad it's back!**

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**Guest: You're probably right, but I had to take some liberties with this story. Hence the term "**_**Fan**_**Fiction." And I'm glad you liked it!**

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**JCBoLt: Oh, I'm so glad you like it! Thank you! I will continue it for the children! **

**XXX**

Azelma listened to her sisters talking in their bedroom as she sat in the garden, weaving a chain of daisies. She was rather unsurprised to hear of Cosette's innocent – if rather rash – infatuation. It wasn't as if her honorary sister wasn't smart. No, it wasn't that. She was just so… so… _good_. Innocent and pure and _ever_ so naïve. She was quite intelligent, though admittedly, she did seem to use most of her knowledge to write silly love poems or find ways to get closer to God. _God is all fine and well_, Azelma thought, _but if Cosette and Papa make me spend one more second in church, I'll explode! _The thought was slightly humorous, and Azelma allowed herself a quiet giggle. She quickly quelled it though, when 'Ponine's next words floated from the open window: "I will go to one meeting with you, and no more."

Azelma stroked her chin thoughtfully. This "meeting" business sounded quite interesting. Something new and exciting in her sheltered, safe life. Of course, the fifteen-year-old was eternally grateful to Papa for rescuing her from the hellish life she had known before. She wasn't sickly, sallow, or bruised anymore, but good God was she _bored_. Cosette had her charity work and 'Ponine was always slinking off to God-knows-where, so the pretty girl was often left alone. Life could have been more interesting, to say the least.

But the _Amis de L'ABC_ that 'Ponine talked about sounded quite exciting. Azelma decided to make her move. She abandoned her half-finished daisy chain and entered the house, leaning against the doorframe with crossed arms and a smirk. She saw her sisters hugging – 'Ponine looking quite uncomfortable – and grinned, waiting for them to notice her. When they did, Cosette blanched.

"Oh… 'Zelma. I-I didn't realize you w-were here," she stuttered. "You-you heard everything?"

Azelma smirked again. "I heard everything, 'Setta," she said. "And I promise I won't tell Papa." At Cosette's relieved look, Azelma gave a devilish grin. "That is, if you take me with you."

Eponine glared at her younger sister. "Azelma Thénardier-Jondrette-Valjean!" she snapped. She said it so fast that it sounded almost imperceptible. "You are not going to this meeting. It is for adults, not bored young girls who want a bit of excitement in their lives!"

Azelma was taken slightly aback, but didn't show it. Instead, she twirled a ringlet and shrugged. "Whatever you say, dearest 'Ponine… I suppose I'll just tell Papa, then," she said innocently.

Cosette blanched. "No! No, 'Zelma! Please don't tell Papa! You can come, you can come!"

Azelma grinned. "Thank you!" she said with a wink, and sauntered back inside.

XXX

The three girls trouped through the streets, Azelma clad in rusty red, Cosette in pale white, and Eponine in green. When they finally got to a nice little café – the Musain – the three girls were almost hesitant to enter. Finally, 'Ponine got tired to her sisters' antics and shoved her way into the Café. She yanked her sisters inside, and asked a plump woman at the counter where she might find _Les Amis de L'ABC_. The woman quirked an eyebrow and pointed to the backroom.

"You three mistresses, then? Maybe of M. Courfeyrac or M. Bahorel?" she asked rudely.

Cosette's pale cheeks pinkened. Azelma burst into laughter. Eponine just glared.

"But there's three 'a ya, so I'd bet M. Grantaire is one a yers, _non_?" the woman continued.

"That will be all, Madame," Eponine snapped, ushering her sisters into the backroom. She calmly surveyed the scene. There appeared to be ten boys, but her eyes only found one. A brown-haired, bespectacled young man with the kindest eyes she had ever seen. They locked eyes from across the room.

At this moment, Azelma was experiencing the exact same thing… with a sun god. Her mind was reeling yet blank at the same time, her brown-eyed gaze caught in the mesmerizing glance of a young blonde man. He crossed his arms and stared at her, looking somewhat confused.

And of course, Marius and Cosette were caught in some sort of time warp-like, impenetrable bubble of love at first sight.

This was interrupted by a bark of laughter from Courfeyrac. He sidled up to the young men and women with a smirk, throwing an arm around Eponine and Combeferre. "Well,_ bonjour_ ladies. I assume the blonde lark here is this Cosette that Marius has been talking about." He looked to Eponine. "I've seen you around, _mon cher_. Who are you?"

Eponine grunted and threw Courfeyrac's arm off of her. "My name is Eponine Thénardier-Jondrette-Valjean, and you?"

Courfeyrac laughed. "What a name! Thénardier-Jondrette, you say?" He tapped his chin. "I believe I've seen your family around town. Are you related to… Gavroche, by chance?"

"Gavroche?" Azelma and Eponine breathed at the same time.

"We haven't seen our brother in ten years!" Azelma cried, breaking her gaze with the handsome student.

"Well here he comes now!" Courfeyrac grinned.


	5. true love never did run smooth

_**Bonjour, mes beaux et miserables amis! **_**I'm SO SORRY I HAVEN'T BEEN UPDATING! I've just been obsessing over Sweeney Todd, so…yeah. I'm not going out of the Mis fandom though! I don't think I could if I tried! Here are your replies, of course:**

**JCBoLt: I'm glad the children are happy!**

**ConcreteAngelRoxHerHalo: Yes, a short update. You try writing the story! ;) A fish, eh? I must use that one on my Eddie-obsessed best friend.**

**SleepingwithinWater: I understand; I faced that issue myself. Although, with Bossuet being the oldest in the group, and I always put him at about twenty-five because that's when he lost his hair, my Enjolras is younger than twenty-six. **

**BroadwayActingChic15: ^^ Indeed they have! Thank you, **_**cherie**_**.**

**Guest: Thank you so much!**

**(Other) Guest: Thank you for the suggestion, but I'm afraid it won't happen this time 'round.**

**Kansas: Thank you so much, sweetie! Famous in the fandom? Not hardly! :3 Gavroche has a huge part in this chapter; I know how much you love him. I'll see if I can fit Camille into the next chapter. And Courf/Eponine? Well, I do love that shipping. Oh, you've got me! I changed the story because of that idea!**

**Randomcat100: Glad you liked Azelma!**

**TheIbis2010: I'm so glad you like it, **_**mon ami d'oiseau**_**. Love chatting with you!**

**NightenGale10: I will always continue! And gee…thank you so much!**

**Kansas: What? E? …wot? **

**(Other, Other) Guest: I will! I'm sorry I'm so late!**

**XXX**

The door of the Musain was pushed open with a jingle as a young boy of about twelve walked in. He was dressed well for obviously living on the streets, with merry blue eyes and a cheeky grin. He looked around at the boys and girls with confusion. "Wot?" he asked. "Wot's so funny? Why's everyone starin' at me?"

Courfeyrac drew his arm around Eponine (again, although she distinctly minded less this time) and Azelma. "Little Gav, do you know these girls?" he asked with a smile.

The boy squinted at the two. "No," he finally decided. "Why?"

"Think on this carefully, _mome_," Courfeyrac said with a jovial grin, giving Eponine's shoulder a squeeze. At the glare she shot him, he gave a wink and a grin. "Their names are Eponine and Azelma Thénardier-Jondrette-Valjean. Do any of those names sound familiar to you?"

Gavroche's mouth dropped open. "Eponine and Azelma?" he cried. "My sisters?! Pa always said that I 'ad two sisters 'ooo he sold named…" He gestured to the two. "My first memory is of you!" he cried to the girls. "I was two, cryin' cause Pa hit this curly-'aired girl – guess that was Azelma – and this strong girl was comfortin' both of us." Without another word, the young boy lurched forward and suddenly the three siblings were locked in a tearful embrace.

Cosette and Marius were still staring dreamily at each other, and missed this whole spectacle. She reached a hand up and laid it on his cheek, causing the boy to smile. Just like their encounter in the square a few days ago, his smile was gentle and foolish at the same time. "Your name, monsieur?" she asked softly.

"My name is Marius Pontmercy," the boy whispered to her. "And you're Cosette?"

"I am," Cosette returned shyly, not at all concerned about how he knew her name when she didn't know his.

With her hand still on his cheek, Marius took her other hand in his and squeezed it. Cosette blushed and smiled, leaning forward. She didn't care that she had just learned his name, didn't even know how old the boy was, and was in a crowded room – she kissed him. Marius seemed relatively surprised that this was happening, and though he kissed her back, seemed to be having a small mental breakdown. It was only at a whoop from Bahorel that the two broke apart, Cosette flushed and smiling, Marius sweating and continuing his mental breakdown.

Cosette turned to her sisters to see them with a small boy – Eponine had a hand on his shoulder and he was holding Azelma's arm. "Who is this?" Cosette asked happily.

"The name's Gavroche, miss," the boy said warily, eying the love-struck Marius. "S'pose I'm yer honorary brother now."

"How…?" Cosette asked.

"How indeed," Azelma repeated dryly. "We'll tell you the story later, 'Setta. What we need to know now is…" She gestured at Cosette and Marius, who, though Cosette had turned away and Marius was certainly distracted, were still tangled with each other.

"Well," Cosette announced with dreamily finality, "I'm in love."

Marius looked at the girl. "How old are you, Cosette?" he asked, sounding a little worried.

"Eighteen, Monsieur Marius," she answered shyly, "and you?"

"Twenty," the boy answered, relieved. "Cosette, will you marry me?"

The assembled group gaped at the boy, openmouthed. Finally, Grantaire began to cackle with laughter. "You're j-jokin', are ya not?" the drunkard slurred, drawing a bottle away from his lips. "You've known the child f-fer naught b-but a d-day, Pontm-mercy." He ended this statement in a hiccup. "B'sides," he continued, "_child_ fits 'er. She's t-too young fer ya."

"Grantaire put the bottle down!" Enjolras snapped, annoyed. He pinched the bridge of his nose. First the three girls disrupted his meeting (he was making a particularly invigorating speech), then the one with the ringlets (Azelma?) had caused his heart to shudder in the oddest way, then the "heartwarming" sibling reunion had made him forget his original topic, then Marius and his girl had disrespected everyone by being intimate in public (only Enjolras felt this way, but he still wanted to use it as an excuse), and finally Pontmercy was being an idiot by asking the girl to marry him. And then the girl was being an even bigger idiot by squealing "YES!" before kissing him with renewed fervor. _What has this world come to? _ the revolutionary thought, annoyed.

Eventually, all of the ruckus died down. Of course, it took at least another forty-five minutes of Eponine shouting at Cosette for being "a weak-willed, two-a-penny, foolish, _child_!" and Azelma cackling like a maniac, tears of mirth slipping down her pale face. Courfeyrac found this all immensely humorous of course, eventually drawing Eponine away from shouting at her now-engaged sister with an arm around her waist and something whispered in her ear that caused her to blush and smack him across the face. She then went over to Combeferre just to spite Courfeyrac (admittedly, she also found him quite charming, and hadn't forgotten her earlier eye lock with him). Gavroche had followed Azelma and Eponine around like a puppy, also taking quite a liking to his other "sister," who was a bit distracted with her new fiancée. Enjolras tried to regain order throughout all of this, but with the three girls there, things were made much harder.

XXX

Finally – blessedly (Enjolras truly thought he would never think this way) – the meeting was over. The three girls were set to leave (Marius had insisted her escort the girls for "their safety"). Before they went, Enjolras tapped Azelma's shoulder. "Girl," he said.

She turned and blushed, but somehow kept a smirk on her face. "_Oui_, Monsieur Enjolras, O Honored Revolutionary Leader?" she simpered sarcastically. Yes, the boy was handsome, but she had more than a few problems with him after hearing him talk, especially just now when he hadn't even referred her by name. Just "girl."

Enjolras felt very taken aback. "Pardon?" he questioned angrily. He was more than used to hearing rude comments, but this was new.

"What, a bit annoyed that I am not singing your praises, _Monsieur Dieu Soleil_?" Azelma said, irked.

"Not at all," Enjolras snapped. "I was merely going to talk to you about earlier this evening, but your outright rudeness has prevented me from doing so. I bid you goodnight!" He turned on his heel.

"You wait just one minute, Enjolras!" Azelma all but yelled, grabbing his arm. "I've got a few words for you before you storm away like _un_ _garçon vexé_!" He opened his mouth to protest, but Azelma covered his lips with a finger. "_Hush_!" she admonished sharply. "This is exactly it, sir!" At the boy's pink cheeks, she hastily removed her finger and blushed, flustered. She crossed her arms. "You talk and talk about this new world, but when will you actually take action? When will you really_ look_ at the poor and starving? You can talk about this as much as you wish, but talking and acting are far from the same thing. You're a natural leader, but I think you just like the attention. You're a spoilt boy, you are, rebelling against your rich parents with pretentious words and fake ideals."

Enjolras had never been talked to this way, and he'd been taking it fairly well until the girl had called his ideals fake. "MY IDEALS ARE AS REAL AS YOU OR I!" he screamed. "You _dare_ call my ideals fake?" He felt his eye twitch. "I fight for a free France, and I will gladly give my life for my cause, or anyone who supports it, be it General Lamarque or even you, if you would wise up and stop acting like a bored young child who just wants to rile anyone she talks to!" His face was red. "If anyone is spoilt, it is you, _fille puerile_!"

Azelma felt her own face turning red. "I am not a child!" she all but screeched. "Do you know how tired I am of people treating me as one when I am as serious as any adult?! If you would die for anyone who loved your _République_, then treat me as an adult and truly tell me why I should dedicate myself to your cause!"

As this tension-filled argument took place, Eponine, Marius, Cosette, and Gavroche looked on awkwardly. Eponine leaned over to Marius and whispered, "Is he usually like this, Monsieur?"

"How so?" Marius asked, trying his best to be polite. If this Eponine girl was to be his new "sister," as it were (there seemed to be a lot of fake siblingry in this family of hers), he wanted her to take a liking to him.

"As in…is your Enjolras usually this aggressive with girls he's taken a fancy to," Eponine explained, not voicing it as a question anymore.

"A fancy?" Marius choked. "Enjolras doesn't lower his eyes for any woman!"

"Or girl," Eponine murmured sourly. "She's too young for him."

"Even so," Marius spluttered. "He's never looked at a woman with so much as friendship! He's not misogynistic, mind you," he added quickly as Eponine's glare turned dark and mildly murderous, "it's just that…most girls all but throw themselves at him. He's a bit wary around females, I would think." He took a look at Enjolras and Azelma, shouting at each other like angry…hurricanes. (It was the best analysis he could come up with.) "Maybe he's finally found one who challenged him." He gave a small smile. "This will either be the best thing to happen to him, or the most amusing thing to happen to the rest of us." He put his arm around Cosette and gave her a squeeze on the word "us."

Eponine and Gavroche rolled their eyes. "Cosette, you'd best figure out some way to tell Papa about all of this," Eponine said. "We're past due to get come." She took another look at Enjolras and Azelma. "That is, if we ever do get home."


	6. apollo flies and daphne holds the chase

**I'm terrible at updates, I know. Nothing more to say. Don't kill me. Also, the guest reviewer who goes by "Bee" is my real life best friend. Just thought you'd like to know. :) Here are your replies, Little Lovelies:**

**ConcreteAngelRoxHerHalo: You **_**are**_** a big E/E shipper, aren't you? Well, I'm glad you like this story! Thanks for sticking with me!**

**JCBoLt: I'll, ah…take that into consideration, Leader of the Children. I'd like to refrain from being hurt, if I could.**

**Guest: I know! I will! Sorry! :3**

**NightenGale10: Thank you! I'm growing to love this pairing!**

**AzureOtter: Thanks! **_**You're **_**great, Bren!**

**TheIbis2010: Thank you! Your review makes me happy, Bird-Boy! Are you still alive? Haven't heard from you in a while.**

**Randomcat100: Thank you so much!**

**Anna Clare: Well, thank you! I'm so glad you like it!**

**LittlePeopleKnow: Hah, hah, hah! Thank you! I like E/E, but it's just too commonplace for me, you know? **

**Bee: You know what, Izzie? I'm glad you like it. And yes, he does have a (admittedly very attractive) footesque face. **

**Rosemary: I know. Marius is a dope. XD Thank you for taking the time to write your long, thoughtful review! **

**Itarella13: Thank you so much, mon ami! Those words mean a lot to me!**

**XXX**

Jean Valjean was concerned. Very concerned. His girls, his _daughters_, were growing into young women. If they lived in a proper society setting, Eponine and Cosette would be married off by now, and Azelma would be looking at suitable suitors. But they did not live among the rich and privileged, so he would fight to keep his daughters with him as long as he could. He didn't want to smother them, though; they had to grow up at some point. It was the natural order of things.

Such a topic, though. It raged in his head for hours, the harbinger of many a sleepless night. If he could, he would keep his girls with him for the rest of their lives, living simply and happily at 55 Rue Plumet. Alas, it was impossible. They were growing into such beauties. Cosette like an angel with her fresh, rosy skin and pale blonde hair, Eponine like a dark rose with her olive skin and waves of raven hair, and Azelma like a crackling flame with her reddish ringlets and freckled complexion.

They would be attracting young men soon, young men who would take them away to be their brides or – _God, forbid it_ – their mistresses. Then the lights of Jean Valjean's life would be forever taken away.

But would he really want to quell their happiness for his own personal contentment? That was cruel, not to mention extremely selfish.

Dear God. What would he do?

XXX

Azelma lay in her bed that night, thoughts of a blonde Apollo rushing through her mind. The naturally devious girl was staggered by Enjolras. She loved – no, not loved; quite liked, yes…that was it – the fact that he could pose a good argument against her. He understood that she didn't want to be treated like an incompetent child just because she was a bit younger than everyone else. _Just because he understands that means nothing_, she thought sourly. Enjolras had called her – what? – oh, yes. A "spoilt child." That had ignited her rage, but she had insulted him, and she knew that she could act exactly like a, well, a spoilt child.

They had argued for at least an hour, he trying to convince her of the Republic's usefulness and why she should believe in his cause. She had shot back witticisms, all the while moved by his words.

More than just his words.

He was one of the most handsome beings she had ever encountered. Long blonde hair that rivaled Cosette's tied back in a tail, clear blue eyes filled with passion, and…and….

"_Ugh_!" she growled quietly. _My head needs to be cleared; nothing more. _She knew Cosette often when to the garden when the world was too much for the lark, and decided to try this out. She rose quietly from her bed and smoothed down her wild curls, stepping out in the moonlit garden. It was quite beautiful if you could forget the oppressive nighttime heat. It was almost sepulchral. She took a seat on Cosette's favorite bench and picked at a seam on her heavy nightgown. She honestly wished she could sleep in her chemise, but Papa would be horrified.

Honestly, he would even be horrified if he knew that she had gone to a meeting full of men. Men just a bit older than her. Men who resembled a marble statue. _Oh, shut up! _Azelma thought to herself. _You lovesick fool! He's too old for you, and thinks you a brat, which you are. It'll do you well to just forget about him. _

Suddenly, the Apollo who had been occupying her thoughts all night actually strolled past her garden. _God_, Azelma thought angrily, _are You just trying to tempt me?! _She rose. "Enjolras?" she called. "What are you doing here?"

"Hello?" Enjolras said. He looked about him. "Who said that?"

"It's me," Azelma said walking up to the iron fence. "Azelma."

Enjolras's cheeks colored violently. He was seeing Azelma – the brat, the devious, spoiled girl, the one he was quite sure he was in love with after seeing her argue – in her nightgown. Of course it was completely unrevealing, but a proper gentleman didn't see a girl young enough to be his young sister in her nightgown. In her _house_, of all places. Yes, he was technically outside of the property, but still. He couldn't stop staring at the damnable nightgown. Yes, he concluded, it was not see-through. Not that he was thinking about what if would be like if the garment was see-through. No. That would be rude, inappropriate…and…very…no. Not very "nice." _NOT nice_.

"Enjolras?" Azelma asked.

"Unh," he answered.

"What are you doing here?"

"I was taking a walk to clear my head," he answered, finally able to form a coherent thought.

"Oh, how odd. I was sitting out here to clear my – Wait. Did you just say you were taking a walk? At night? On the streets of Paris? Alone? _Unprotected_? Do you even have a knife with you?!" she scolded. "Honestly, _on-jhol-ross_, I didn't expect you to be so naive."

Enjolras glared. "You know perfectly well how my name is pronounced, thank you. Please refrain from teasing me like a…a…_moutard_. And I am very capable of defending myself, Azelma. I don't need your concern."

"_Oh, c'est le puissant Apollo en colère contre moi_?" she asked innocently, smirking. "Forgive me for stating fact and trying to be jovial."

Enjolras gritted his teeth. "You. Are. Insufferable."

"You're taking part in the argument, monsieur _cheveux d'or_," Azelma grinned. Suddenly, the tension/banter was broken by loud, drunken-sounding laughter.

"Lookee 'ere, boys! A pretty li'uhl flower out on the streets at night! She's wearin' men's clothes!" a big, brutish man all but shouted.

Enjolras whipped around, anger bubbling within him. _A woman?! They…they think I'm a woman! _he thought indignantly. He opened his mouth to retaliate when the creaking of Azelma's gate made him turn. She was pushing against it with all of her strength, looking frantic.

"Get in! Now!" she hissed.

"No," Enjolras said bluntly. He was still filled with righteous indignation, as he was wont to be, but even he could see that loud, drunk men and a young girl in her nightgown didn't mix. "Get back, Azelma. You're going to get hurt," he said. The drunks were getting closer by the second.

"_I'll_ get hurt?!" she shrieked. "Enjolras, those men think you're a woman! They're going to…violate you! Even if they knew you as a man, they would beat you! They're the size of bears, and you're…you're…" She stopped speaking, seeing that her words weren't going to convince him. _Curse you, you stubborn ox! _she thought, darting out of the garden and grabbing him by the hands. She most certainly didn't notice the fact that he had long, nimble fingers and his hands were oddly warm.

Enjolras all but gasped at the touch. It was as if all of his strongly repressed feelings as an adolescent had suddenly come rushing to him in this one moment. "What are you…?" he started.

"Shut up!" Azelma hissed, and dragged him into the garden, her nightgown ruffling in the breeze. She dropped his hands and leaned into the heavy metal gate with her shoulder, straining to shut and lock it. Just as she managed to do so, the intoxicated men blundered by, peering about themselves confusedly.

"Where's the pretty lady?" the huge one questioned.

"She…disappeared," a heavy-lidded man answered sleepily.

"I am a man!" Enjolras finally cried. "I am not a 'pretty lady,' as you say! You are making a mockery of yourselves, do you hear? You're acting like the drunken fools that you are, and I demand that you quit this instant!"His face was almost red, and he had stalked over to the fence, wrapping his hands around the metal flourishes and pressing his face against it. He didn't dare leave the garden, but as long as he was safely behind the sturdy metal wall, he would happily berate the drunks.

One of them – a man with a scar running down his left cheek – lumbered over to the fence and grabbed Enjolras's cravat in one meaty fist and tugged, crashing the blonde into the fence. "Who asked you, pretty boy?" he snarled.

Azelma floundered helplessly. _What can I do to help him? _she thought. Doing the only thing she could think of, she lurched forward and wrapped her arms around Enjolras's form and tugged him as hard as she could. Evidently, the drunk's grip had slackened, and Enjolras tumbled backwards in her arms. She fell backwards; somehow in midair Enjolras managed to twist around so he fell first, hitting the ground hard and cushioning Azelma's fall with…himself.

She was now directly on top of him, staring into those damnable blue eyes, her cheeks flaming red. "Don't challenge drunkards," she finally managed.

"Thank you for pulling me away," he returned. "That was brave of you."

"Think nothing of it," Azelma said quickly. Realizing where she was, she rolled off of him and stood up, brushing herself off. "Well, Monsieur Enjolras, I believe I've enough excitement for one night. Let's get you home, shall we?"

Enjolras took a breath. "Yes, I suppose so." He got up and brushed himself off as well, turning to leave.

A loud voice disrupted them.

"Azelma? Are you out here?"

"_Merde_!" Azelma cursed. "It's Papa!" She looked about herself frantically and shoved Enjolras behind a tree. "Um…_Je suis là_!" she called out.

A tall, older man Enjolras vaguely recognized as a charitable yet poor philanthropist appeared from the home. He put a hand on Azelma's shoulder. "_Mon enfant_," he said, "what are you doing out here? It is dangerous at night."

"I know, Papa," Azelma answered, completely different from her usual fiery tone. She was using a voice that was admiring and obedient.

_She must love her father very much_, Enjolras thought, oddly endeared.

"I'm sorry. I couldn't sleep. May I have just one minute, Papa? I believe I've forgotten something." She looked up at her father sweetly.

"Hmm…alright. Be inside quickly, now, _fille_." He returned to the house.

Azelma smiled at her father's retreating form, and then a look of panic crossed her face. She darted over to Enjolras. "What will we do?! Papa is awake, Enjolras, and he'll hear if we open the gate to let you out! You can't stay in my garden all night; _mon Dieu_, what will we do?!"

Enjolras smiled gently at Azelma. _She is lovely in the moonlight_, he mused.

Azelma flushed again. _Bothersome emotions! _"Monsieur, stop staring at me like a fool! What will we do?!" Seeing Enjolras would be no help, she flopped down on Cosette's bench dramatically, frowning and trying frantically to think of something. The slow inklings of a plan formed, and she blanched. "Oh, no. Enjolras, I've got a plan. A stupid, daring plan."

"Yes?"

"Good. You're back to normal." She shook her head. "What if you stayed the night in my house? Our house is very small, though. There is Papa's room, the maid's room, the drawing room, and…our room. My sisters and I, I mean. You would have to make due under my bed."

Enjolras frowned. "Your father will find me. Or worse yet, your sisters."

"What else can we do?"

"I could climb the gate?"

"You'll break it! It won't hold your weight! Just…come with me." She took Enjolras's arm, and, cheeks burning, led the Apollo into her house. Into her _room_. And then promptly realized the space between her bed and the floor was all but nonexistent. "_Merde_!" she cursed again. "Dear, God. I don't – I…"

Enjolras hemmed and hawed, both of them unwilling to say the most obvious solution.

"My bed…is…closest to the wall," Azelma whispered, trying not to wake her sisters.

"They would not see us, I assume."

"No, I suppose not. Ah, I believe I can find a pair of my father's sleeping trousers for you," Azelma murmured. She left for a moment, and then returned with said trousers. "They're in need of a wash, but…"

"No. Thank you. Really, Azelma. I'm quite sorry about this ordeal."

"It's…alright." She turned as he changed out of his waistcoat and proper trousers and into the sleep pants. She tried to forget the fact that he was wearing nothing but sleep pants that were already much too large him. Enjolras folded his clothes neatly, climbing hesitantly into Azelma's bed. She climbed in after him. It was much too small, but somehow they both managed to fit.

XXX

When Enjolras awoke, Azelma was cradled in his arms, her back to his chest, her head tucked neatly under his chin. Their legs were tangled. She awoke as well, turning over so they were chest-to-chest. Other than that, their legs stayed tangled and her head stayed tucked 'neath his chin. Enjolras smiled sleepily, and was about to fall asleep again, when the voice of Eponine shattered the peace.

"AZELMA FAUCHELEVANT!" she all but shouted. "What have you done?!"

**There! A long update! Yay! Also, so I realized that calling them 'Zelma and 'Ponine Thénardier-Jondrette-Valjean makes no sense. Let's pretend it's a nickname. Shush; I'll make it make sense in the next chapter. **


	7. but never doubt i love

**So sorry that I didn't update, mes amis! This is the last update on this story before I start high school in four days. So…savor it. ;) I feel like I'm probably gonna have a lot of homework, since I have like seven or eight classes. (I forget!) Updates will become less frequent. I also realize that I'm making Cosette seem like an idiot in this story. Heh. Sorry 'bout that. Now, your replies:**

**frustratedstudent: Wow, I made you howl with laughter? I'm honored! Thank you so much!**

**Lsquared2: Why thank you!**

**NightenGale10: I'm so glad that you think so!**

**AzureOtter: Thank you so much, Bren! I feel so special! And seriously, I will now go down with this ship.**

**Nina Wilson Scott: Thank you! I imagine this is how Azelma would be as well. I mean, screw demureness! :D Eh, if I were Eponine, I'd probably react in a similar manor! ;)**

**Rosemary: Thank you so much!**

**Awesomeness24601:Thank you so much, ami!**

**TheIbis2010: Well, well, Bird-Boy…quoting my own words at me. XD Thank you very much.**

**Broadway-Bound: I ADORE YOUR USERNAME! THANKS SO MUCH! CAPITAL LETTERS! YAY!**

**ConcreteAngel: Thank you! Glad to know I'm taking you out of your norm. Hey…what ever happened to your account? **

**Guest: Why thank you! I will keep writing, my nonny friend! **

**Randomcat100: What will become of her indeed? Well, you'll see if you read below! ;) **

**XXX**

Eponine couldn't believe the sight that had presented itself to her when she awoke: an unfamiliar, but distinctly male form in Azelma's bed. The tale-tail blonde locks gave him away. "AZELMA FAUCHELEVANT, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!" Eponine all but shouted. She was utterly shocked. Enjolras…the untouchable leader of Les Amis, was…in her young sister's bed…with his arms around her. Azelma and Enjolras both jerked upright. _Mon Dieu, he's shirtless. They weren't – they…they weren't – mon Dieu. Please, Lord, please tell me they did not – oh…Lord. _

"This isn't what it looks like!" Azelma said quickly. "We did nothing! I swear! I was sitting out in the garden to clear my head and Enjolras was taking a walk to clear his head as well. We were talking when a group of drunks came by; they thought he was a woman. 'Ponine, they were going to hurt him! I opened the gate and let him into the garden with the intention of him staying there until the drunks passed. But then _someone_ –"she looked fondly at Enjolras here "– had the idea of trying to tell off the drunkards. One of them grabbed him. Ah…to make a long story short, Papa came out, and I couldn't get him out of the garden without making a dreadful ruckus. So…"

"So you shared a bed with him?" Cosette questioned. The young girl had just woken up, and caught the tail end of Azelma's hurried explanation. _Everyone in our family is finding love_, she thought dreamily. _Azelma and Enjolras, Marius and myself…ah, Marius. My husband-to-be. _She was quickly lost in thought.

"What else could I have done?!" Azelma snapped. "Besides, this isn't the worst scandal we've faced. It's not as if I'm his mistress!"

Enjolras colored here. He rose from the bed, which he immediately realized was a bad decision as he wasn't wearing anything besides Azelma's father's sleep pants. Seeing the scandalized look crossed Cosette's face, he quickly crossed his arms over his chest. "I sincerely apologize for all of this, Mademoiselles Fauchelevant. I promise I haven't corrupted your sister in any way."

"Good," Eponine growled walked over to Enjolras and jabbing a finger at his chest. "If you are lying, Julien Enjolras, I will hurt you. And if you ever show up in this house again, I will hurt you. And if you even _think_ about courting my sister, I will hurt you." She felt like a mother cat guarding its young: hackles high, teeth bared, and claws at the ready.

Enjolras blinked, actually looking slightly scared. "I…understand this."

"Lovely," Eponine snarled. "Now get out of my house, Enjolras!" She couldn't believe any of this was happening.

Enjolras began to put his clothing back on, looking strained when he realized that he could either change in front of Cosette and Eponine or exit the home in a pair of sleep trousers that were miles too large. _Merde_, he thought. "I –" he began, when the three young people heard heavy footsteps coming towards them.

"It's Papa!" Cosette whispered, wringing her hands. "We must hide Julien!" She glanced around quickly. _This is just like an event in one of my romance novels_, she thought. _Suspense and intrigue! And a young man to hide in your closet! _She remembered once of her novels – she had just finished it last Wednesday – where a silly young thing named Oceane had hidden her handsome beau in her closet under a stack of heavy winter coats when her father entered her room. "Wait a moment," Cosette whispered. "A closet!" She turned to her sisters and Julien. "A closet!" she cried emphatically, excitedly. "We should hide Julien in the closet!"

"We don't have a closet!" Eponine hissed in a strained voice. _Oh, 'Setta. You wonderful, sweet idiot_, she thought. _You must have read that in one of your horrible one-sou romance novels. _She would never admit that she actually enjoyed those novels much more than she let on.

"Wait…but we do have an armoire!" Azelma said excitedly, bouncing on the balls of her feet. She grabbed Enjolras and steered him towards the armoire she shared with 'Setta and 'Ponine. Her sisters wrenched the doors open and she shoved him inside, slamming the doors of it shut, hissing, "Not a sound, Apollo!"

Enjolras marveled at how airless the small cabinet he was shut up in was. He had never been particularly unnerved by close spaces – after all, he had played many games of hiding when he was a child – but he wasn't particularly fond of places where he was sat upon ladies clothing and had trouble breathing. The doors wouldn't quite shut over his long legs, even with his knees drawn up to his chest. He heard the footfalls enter the room.

"Is everything well?" a voice asked. It had to belong to the girls' father. "I heard a shout."

"Everything is fine, Papa," Eponine answered hastily. "We were playing a game."

"A game?" the father asked. "You three haven't played games since you were children." Enjolras could hear a smile in his voice. He found himself wondering what Azelma was like as a child. Probably plump and rosy-cheeked with a dubious streak. He gave a small smile.

On the other side of the armoire doors, Azelma cringed. She remembered her childhood – before Papa, of course. It was really only vague snatches and hazy memories, but from what she had pieced together, she understood that she had been a sickly, abused thing, sallow and bruised. Young childhood had not treated her kindly.

In fact…a memory stirred. One that she had not thought of in years. For some reason, it decided to manifest itself now.

_ "My pretty little Azelma," a rough yet maternal voice said._

_ Azelma looked into the (watery) eyes of her redheaded mother. Even at four years old, she could see what an ugly creature her mother was. Inside and out. Large, imposing, and oafish like a giantess, yet fierce and protective and quick with the lash on the servant girl. _What an odd thing, Maman is_, Azelma thought. _She's quite nice to me and 'Ponine, but she's nasty to Cosette. How strange. _She gave a small smile that held no kindness, and then coughed weakly. She had been sicker of late, constantly covered in a cold sweat, and she just felt tired._

_ "Hello, Maman," she said._

_ "Oh, my darling," Maman crooned in a voice that made anyone wish to cover their ears. "My little sick darling."_

_ Azelma_ _observed her mother again. Did she love this woman? The child couldn't have said. After all, Maman did nothing to protect her when Papa beat her in a drunken fit, but after, she would coddle and coo to Azelma as if she were a queen. The little girl was confused by this behavior. In some ways, Maman scared her. In other ways, she just made Azelma feel uncomfortable. Especially when she could hug her, burying Azelma's head in her bosom and squeezing her. It made her already strained breaths even more strained. What odd, grown-up thoughts these were. _

_ Azelma felt that if she were given the opportunity, she would leave her mother forever. _

XXX

Azelma shook her head, gritting her teeth at the haunting memory. She had been such a cold, unloving child. How could a four-year-old feel that way? And even now she wasn't loving. Sure, she loved Papa and 'Ponine and 'Setta (and maybe even Enjolras, but this was not the time to contemplate that), but she never did anything to show it. She was devious and brash and rude, and knew that she just irritated those around her. _Some things never change, do they?_ she thought bitterly.

If she just admitted it, the girl wasn't satisfied with herself a person. She wished to be kind and collected like Cosette, but determined and humorous like Eponine. Why couldn't she just be obedient and willing but keep her fiery streak? Why did she have to be rude and always offend people? She was surprised Enjolras had dealt with her this long.

_Although…I can fix a few things about myself without hating myself_, she thought. _When it all comes down to it, I don't think I ever will be as obedient as Cosette, or even as tactful as Eponine. I'm me, and I can't change that. I can amend some things, but I cannot change who I am. And I suppose I'll just have to be satisfied with that. _She grinned.

While all of this was going on, Eponine and Cosette were engaging their father in a friendly discussion, all the while panicking on the inside.

_He's going to suffocate_, Cosette thought, as she said, "It's such a lovely day, Papa!" in a shrill voice.

"Give us a moment to get dressed and then we'll all go on a stroll," Eponine said in a much calmer voice. She wasn't sure how long one could go stuffed into an armoire without suffocating, but if she could make Enjolras suffer for a few minutes, she would gladly take those minutes and wring them out as long as they could last. She looked over to Azelma, who looked dreamy and slightly troubled. She gave a sudden grin that was really more of a baring of her teeth. Eponine eyed her sister warily. _I don't think I want to know what's going on in her mind._

Jean Valjean smiled and left the room. His girls were acting a bit odd today. _Eh, it must the heat_, he thought.

XXX

As the four people strolled through the park, each one was lost in his or her own thoughts. Jean Valjean was reflecting on how lovely the mild summer day was, Azelma was thinking of how they had trundled Enjolras out of the house in a rush, Cosette was pondering on how to break the news of her husband-to-be to Papa, and Eponine was musing on her two beaux.

_Combeferre or Courfeyrac? That is the question_, she thought._ Combeferre is studious and kind and responsible. He's a good man. An intellectual. Courfeyrac is raucous and rude and loud. He has no regard for others, but he's very exciting. _And speaking of excitement, was Eponine excited! _I've never had men look at me the way that those two do. I feel special; wanted. Combeferre would be grounding, and Courfeyrac would be like soaring through the air. What do I want? A promise of safety or a promise of adventure? And how can I even think of this anyway? Cosette will have to tell Papa that she's getting married sometime, and at the route Azelma is going, she and Enjolras will be wed before the month is out…whether I like it or not. And what if she doesn't wed him? What if he just wants to court her? _The thought of her sister as a mistress scared her. Very much. _Good Lord. I can't think of this right now._

Cosette felt guilt bubbling up within her as she watched Eponine furrow her brow in deep contemplation. She wished she were alone with her sisters so she could talk it through. But, no. She was with Papa. Just as she blurted, "Papa, I'm getting marri–" Marius walked by.

He bounded up to her like an excited puppy, taking her hands in his. "Oh, hello Cosette!" he beamed. He turned to Jean Valjean. "Oh, hello Monsieur Fauchelevant! It's an honor to finally meet the father of my future wife!"

"Wife?" Jean Valjean wheezed. He turned to Cosette. "Cosette, is this true?"

Eponine and Azelma winced.

"Did you two know of this?" he snapped.

"Possibly," Azelma said with a weak shrug.

"Well…" Eponine said, sucking her teeth.

Marius blanched. "Monsieur…do you not approve?"

"OF COURSE I DO NOT!" Jean Valjean shouted. "Young man, I don't know who you think you are, but you will not be marrying my daughter." He took Cosette's arm and dragged her off, snapping, "Come along!" to Eponine and Azelma.

Azelma snickered and gave Marius a sympathetic smile. "We'll try," she whispered.

Eponine patted his shoulder. "I may not like it, Monsieur Marius, but if 'Zelma and I can do anything to help you, we will. You'll have my sister yet."


End file.
